As I mentioned yesterday, I got to know about the different dishes that hubby dear enjoyed during his childhood days in one of our discussions last week. As in a true sense of pursuit of happiness, I wanted to recreate the magic of our childhood and see if we can capture that essence again. Of course when I probed him further to ask if it tasted same, he disappointed me saying that it was so long that he no longer remembers the taste. I reminded him of Ratatouille. It was one of the finest movies we watched, especially with a food backdrop.

Whenever he says I should make like what my Amma makes or like Athamma makes, he reminds me that as Anton remembers his mom's cooking, the dish should bring in the same effect. So I told him this ought to remind him of his childhood. He replied back saying Vankaya Pappu has that effect and nothing else. Well that's bad as he had to eat this, but when he did he said he tasted great.

Of course I didn't give this to Konda, but imagine my nephew and nieces eating this with great enjoyment. They love Cut mirchis and with the masala no doubt!

The Mirapakaya Bajjis are made the regular way, only when it is almost done, it is removed, cut into smaller bites, and put back into hot oil to fry it more crispier.

Then once it is done, there are two ways to do it. Either you sauté the finely chopped onions in a pan, add coriander, spice powder along with the cut mirchis. Saute well and serve.

The other way is to add the onions and coriander raw with the masala sprinkled on top with lemon squeezed. This is typically served in a paper cone that is so famous of the roadside eatery shops.

Heat Oil in a kadai, deep fry the bajjis till they are little brown.
Heat a pan with oil, saute the onions, add the hot cut mirchis, sprinkle the spice powder, salt and coriander leaves.
Just before serving sprinkle lime juice on the cut mirchi.
Serve with onions.

Imagine for a moment you got a coin on yourself, you rush down the road towards the cart that serves these spicy bajjis. With great excitement you extend your hand towards the vendor, who looks nonchalant at you. He carries on his task silently, takes the bowl that had almost cooked cut mirchis, puts them back into hot oil, tosses them for a moment, to be removed back to the bowl. He has the other stuff all chopped ahead, from which he quickly scoops out with hand and hurriedly puts on the top of the hot mirchis, sprinkles the spice masala, coriander leaves, finally to squeeze a lime over it. Out comes a paper that is rapidly tuned as a cone, takes a heap of the masala cut mirchi and puts into the cone for you. You sit back to enjoy a bite of the spicy cut mirchi, with tears threatening to roll down, fumes gushing out from ears, you still continue to enjoy every mouth, that simply still takes you to heaven! I don't know this for sure, but this is how hubby dear conveyed his experience as a kid.